I Really Am A Villain

“I don’t really mind, but it’s best to avoid unnecessary trouble,” Xu Zimo replied.

“Of course,” Feng Buxiu said with a smile. He turned toward Xie Changliu and took a pill box from his pocket.

The box was finely crafted, with two dragons coiling in a circular pattern on its lid.

“This is a Great Restoration Pill. Take it, and your injuries will heal instantly. Just a small token, don’t refuse.”

“Go on, take it,” Xu Zimo said with a wave. “He should give it to you.”

Lifting his gaze, Xu Zimo looked around the battlefield, where yellow sand rolled endlessly in the wind.

“Chancellor Feng,” he said with a faint smile, “this Seven Gods Collegium battlefield is rather interesting.”

“It used to be a real battlefield,” Feng Buxiu replied. “It’s said that the Primal Gods and Spectral Ghosts once waged war here. Since the founding of Seven Gods Collegium, it’s been used mainly for training. Nothing worth studying anymore.”

“By the way, Chancellor Feng,” Xu Zimo asked, “how much do you know about that old man, Old Yang?”

“Why? Did Young Master Xu find some clue in that book?” Feng Buxiu asked in surprise.

“No, not really. I’m just curious about who he really is, he seems to know far too much,” Xu Zimo said.

“Old Yang… I’ve heard he doesn’t actually belong to our academy,” Feng Buxiu said after thinking for a moment. “He’s lived here since before the Seven Gods Collegium was even founded. But he’s always kept a low profile, just an ordinary old man. He left decades ago, back when I first became Chancellor. Why, did you notice something strange about him?”

Xu Zimo shook his head slightly.

After parting ways with Feng Buxiu, he returned to his courtyard.

Raising his right hand, he watched as the Flame of Zhurong burned in his palm.

This flame was the condensed essence of countless divine insights left by Zhurong himself, the most domineering fire in existence.

To wield it, one had to master the secret techniques of the Fire God Ancient Dao.

The flame blossomed into the shape of a lotus.

That was only its initial form. As it continued to devour other flames, it would only grow stronger.

He put the flame away.

So many things were shrouded in mist now, and he didn’t even know where to begin his investigation.

He spent the entire day and night cultivating.

As dusk deepened, cold wind swept around the house, howling through the windows like something clawing and scraping outside.

The next morning, when Xu Zimo opened his door, a blast of icy wind struck his face.

In just one night, the world outside had turned completely white.

Autumn had given way to winter.

He warmed his hands, then stepped out into the cold, crunching snow.

Feng Buxiu was already waiting outside with two elder companions. Xie Changliu had arrived early as well.

“Young Master Xu, we depart today,” Feng Buxiu said with a smile. “I’ve arranged everything with the people from Celestial Sage Academy. The tournament at White Emperor Mountain is about to begin. Going early won’t hurt.”

“Let’s go,” Xu Zimo nodded. “Is White Emperor Mountain far from here?”

“Not too far,” Feng Buxiu said. “With spatial coordinates, we can get there in a few days.”

Following Feng Buxiu, the group arrived at a solitary snow-covered peak outside the Seven Gods Collegium.

The snow fell thick as goose feathers, painting the world in pure white.

Feng Buxiu gathered spatial energy in his hands, preparing to open the teleportation coordinates, but suddenly, ripples appeared in the distant void.

A figure approached, riding a massive bird through the swirling snow and mist.

The creature shimmered like crystal, its entire body radiating icy cold.

The rider wore black robes inscribed with white swirling sigils and a gem-studded crown upon his head.

As the figure drew near, Feng Buxiu’s face darkened.

“That’s Sima Yan, from one of the Three Divisions,” one of the elders whispered.

“I know,” Feng Buxiu said curtly. “Stay alert and follow my lead.”

Sima Yan brought his icebird to a stop in the air, staring down at Feng Buxiu.

“Lord Sima, it’s been a while,” Feng Buxiu said with a polite smile. “What brings you to Seven Gods Collegium today?”

“Spare me the act, Chancellor Feng,” Sima Yan replied coldly. “You already know why I’m here.”

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Feng Buxiu said, his smile fading.

“What’s this about Hong Yu?” Sima Yan demanded. “The Three Divisions made it clear long ago, no one is allowed to shelter any member of the World-Devouring Ghost Race. Don’t tell me your Seven Gods Collegium is unaware of that?”

“Seven Gods Collegium admits all who wish to learn,” Feng Buxiu said evenly. “Do the words of the Three Divisions outweigh our principles of education?”

“You’re defying the will of the Three Divisions,” Sima Yan said, his tone cold.

“If it were the decree of the Nine Ghost Gods, we’d listen,” Feng Buxiu countered. “But the Three Divisions’ authority doesn’t extend into this region, it isn’t even part of the Demi-Ghost Region.”

“In that case,” Sima Yan said, “I’ll just have to teach you some respect.”

With those words, sacred power surged from his body.

The entire sky erupted in a howling storm.

Blizzards raged like an avalanche, swallowing the heavens, blotting out the light.

Everything vanished into white.

The snow and wind gathered into two colossal dragons that roared across the sky.

With a thunderous clap of Sima Yan’s hand, both dragons dove toward Feng Buxiu.

“Lord Sima, don’t you think this is going too far?” Feng Buxiu said grimly, retreating quickly.

A deafening boom followed, the dragons crashed into the academy’s main gate, shattering it to rubble.

“Damn it!” Feng Buxiu’s face darkened.

Sima Yan swung his arms again. The two snow dragons wheeled around, howling as they charged once more, freezing everything in their path.

Before they even reached him, Feng Buxiu’s body was encased in ice.

The dragons roared, their massive claws closing in to crush him.

Just as the frozen figure was about to shatter, a thunderclap exploded across the sky.

Lightning ripped through the snow-filled void, obliterating the two dragons in an instant.

Sima Yan looked up sharply as the thunder rolled above.

Bolts of Nine Heavens Profound Lightning descended from the clouds, rumbling like an army of gods.

He leapt aside just in time, but his icebird screamed and fell, struck by the lightning, plummeting into the endless abyss below the mountain.

“Who’s there?” Sima Yan demanded coldly, his eyes narrowing.

“Brother Sima, it’s been so long since you visited our Seven Gods Collegium, this is your greeting gift?” came an aged voice from the mist.

Thunder flickered once more, illuminating a figure walking slowly through the fog.

It was an old man with a handlebar mustache, wearing a loose purple robe that dragged across the snow.

He held a Wind-Thunder Spike in one hand, his white hair disheveled and fluttering in the winter wind.